Homeland will you ever be a homeland. Out there my concupiscent horizon. My ears register only a faint buzz such tiredness they drink the tea they chew the round warm bread. Weak trickle of light. Half hearing Tsvi tell of his therapy. His graphic much too clever tongue. Did I disappoint them too? No longer my judges. A fact. Their odd dispossessed father. Kedmi steers the talk toward politics. Asi’s face lights up. Before Kedmi’s cynicism his thoughts retreat then quickly counterattack. A flanking movement. Speculations historical examples from different times different places taking the long view. Such a precise wealth of language that much at least I did give them. Language. A tongue. Tsvi in a puddle of light basking in sunshine gripping his teacup like me between thumb and forefinger joining handsomely in with that shiny inner shallowness of his laughing someone’s at the door.
Gaddi answered the doorbell and came back for Tsvi.
“Somebody wants you.”
Tsvi sighed without getting to his feet and shut his eyes in despair.
“What can I do? Tell him to come in.”
Calderon entered hesitantly, not daring to look at us. I quickly rose to take him under my wing, afraid that Kedmi might make some rude remark. Yet when I introduced him to the family, he already seemed to know everyone, hastening to shake hands with them all and to identify each by name.
“Yes, yes, I know…” he murmured. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Kaminka. So you got here from Jerusalem… and you too, Dr. Kaminka… Mr. and Mrs. Kedmi, how do you do…” He patted Gaddi’s head and handed him a bar of chocolate from his pocket. “I’m honored to meet you all.” His eyes avoided Tsvi’s. “I see we’re all here except Rakefet. Where is she?”
“In bed,” smiled Ya’el.
“Well, did you manage to get in some praying?” I asked in a low voice.
“Yes. Thank you. A bit of the musaf”
He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered it around, stealing a glance at Tsvi.
“Would you like tea or coffee?”
“No, nothing, thank you. I only came for a few minutes. The weather is changing again. When is your plane taking off?’’
Ya’el went over to whisper something to Kedmi, who remained ensconced in his chair, enjoying the scene.
“Who needs to buy anything?” he answered her impatiently. “We have all we need here.”
Ya’el pulled his hand, trying to make him get up.
“Can I be of any help, Ya’eli?” I asked. “Why don’t you let me cook. You can ask Asi and Dina to recommend me.”
Dina too wanted to help. Ya’el, though, kept tugging at Kedmi, who refused to leave his chair.
“Get up!”
“Forget it, Ya’el,” said Asi. “We’ll eat what there is. We’re not hungry anyway.”
Calderon jumped up. “Perhaps I could take you all out to a restaurant that I know of near here. Let it be my treat. A lovely place to eat, in a garden in the woods.”
Ya’el declined:
“Thank you all the same, but we’ll eat here.”
Kedmi, however, came out in favor. “Maybe we really should eat out. Why not?”
“Let it be on me,” insisted Calderon eagerly. “It’s my pleasure to invite you all. A farewell dinner for Mr. Kaminka… provided, of course, that I’m allowed to foot the bill…”
“But it’s not a question of that,” smiled Ya’el. “I’ve already prepared a meal here… you’re invited to it too…”
And again she tried pulling Kedmi out of his armchair. Carried away by his own idea, though, Calderon now tried persuading Tsvi, who sat grinning in his corner at Ya’el.
“It’s fine with me,” he said. “Whatever you prefer. His restaurant will be a good one, that much I can promise you. Money is no object with him…”
“It’s a very distinguished place, with good, digestible food… and served in a garden… real European cuisine… our bank takes its customers there…”
Yet Ya’el wouldn’t hear of it.
“No, we’ll eat here. Everything is ready.”
Which only stiffened Calderon’s resolve. He was getting hysterical now.
“It’s in a garden, we’ll have a quiet corner to ourselves… nobody will bother us… why put yourself to all that trouble, Mrs. Kedmi… it’s father’s last day, let it be my treat… I’d be only too happy to have you as my guests…”
His agitation was incomprehensible and his reference to “father” made us all feel uneasy. Only Kedmi was entertained by it. Yet he too looked mystified, his mouth agape as though waiting for the next burst of laughter.
I rose and put an arm around Ya’el, my shadow surging up the bars of the balcony on the terrace.
“Why don’t we go out then? It’s really not a bad idea.”
Dina sat in her corner dressed in black, cold, upright and withdrawn, her incredible face a bright pennant aloft.
All your children. The knife turned at dawn. Would they have cared? The Case of the Early-Morning Scream. And how slow Tsvi was.
Kedmi rose at last. “A jolly good idea! Why don’t we? What’s the point of fussing with pots in the kitchen all day long? The food here won’t go to waste, Gaddi and I will polish it off tomorrow. And you have only a few hours left with your father.”
Ya’el was confused. She wasn’t used to putting up a fight. She turned again to Calderon:
“Really, it’s very kind of you, but we have whatever we need here. You’ll join us.”
He literally began to shake.
“I would love to join you, but don’t you see I can’t because of… the bread. Not that it’s any of my business… it’s your right… this is a free country… but I can’t sit at such a table. Perhaps Mrs. Kaminka too… not that I’m naive enough to think that anything will happen… here, I’m touching it”—he lifted a pita from the tray with his fingertips and gingerly put it down again—“you all see that I wasn’t struck down by lightning… but still…”
“Ya’el,” I said, “why don’t we go out. It will be nice.’’
“And the children?”
“We’ll take them with us… of course we will!” exclaimed Calderon. “The place is perfect for them… special arrangements can be made… I’ll hold them on my lap…”
Kedmi let out a great roar.
“I suppose I’m just being a nuisance.”
He stood there mortified, looking at Tsvi, who said nothing.
Kedmi grabbed hold of him good-naturedly and backed him into a corner. “Now that occurs to you? No, no, it’s quite all right… I didn’t mean any harm… what bank do you work for… tell me, how old did you say that you were?”
Oh they’ll make a happy man out of you yet today.
It really was a pleasant place, high on the Carmel, in a small pine woods reached by a narrow path whose small bits of gray gravel crunched beneath our soles, a well-tended, countryish boardinghouse inhabited by elderly people with a bit of sea like a small kerchief in the distance between two houses. Buxom old women in flowery dresses sat about the garden, through which, looking peaceful and bursting with health, two little old men in dark suits strolled while regarding us fondly. The wood-paneled restaurant was a bit worse for the wear but very clean. Its Arab waiters, dressed in black with white bow ties, hurried to greet us.
“Where should we sit, inside or out?…Will it be too cold here for Rakefet?…It’s not that bad, let’s sit outside…”